


A Day In The Life

by petalprose



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Baking, Breakfast, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Rated T for swearing, or well, writing jasprose was a challenge for me but i hope i managed well enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalprose/pseuds/petalprose
Summary: Jasprose decides that cooking Jane breakfast is a good idea.Jane would beg to differ, but it turns out all right.
Relationships: Jane Crocker/Jasprosesprite
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: The JaneJasprose Jam!





	A Day In The Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mercurialHekate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurialHekate/gifts).



All things considered, today had gotten off to a very promising start. Jane awoke to her alarm and her morning routine had gone smoothly, and she expected the rest of her day to go much the same—all up until Jasprose had strolled in, excited (well. More excited than she usually was, that is), with a shopping bag filled with baking supplies.

“You know,” says Jane, watching as Jasprose shrugs off her coat and drops her work I.D onto the first flat surface she comes across, “those are really very unnecessary. My kitchen is never any less than fully-stocked with anything one might need for cooking, baking, or what have you. As you are well aware.”

“Cooking with your own brand strikes me as a tad bit narcissistic, and it takes away a considerable amount of joy from cooking! Do you want for that to happen? Are you, perhaps, a baking elitist?”

“The integrity of both your statements fall a bit short of the mark, considering you’re the one saying them.” Jane continues toweling off her hair, watching her as she goes.

Jasprose turns just before the entrance to the kitchen to level a grin at her. While she’s at it, she takes in Jane’s pale blue button-up and slacks. She raises a brow. “Already getting ready to leave for work?”

“The answer won’t change every time you ask that, Jasprose.”

“What’s a besotted feline-inclined eldritch being to do when faced with the inevitability of capitalism and its clockwork trap having ensnared her beloved? Ask endlessly for respite, that’s what.” With that she twirls and heads straight into the kitchen. “Cute shirt, by the way! It gives off quite the _I control the stock market but only when it comes to baked goods and the like, and also not really, I barely control my own work schedule_ essence, eternally a classic. It looks flattering on you. Are you going to pair that with the bowtie I gifted you or what?”

Jane follows. Not like she’s got any chance of stopping her—Jasprose is an unstoppable whirlwind when she’s got her mind set on a task, and though Jane can negotiate with shareholders and businesspeople for hours on end, it’s nigh on impossible to get a word in edgewise when Jasprose has really gotten herself going. “I was thinking of going with the periwinkle one with polka-dots, actually.” That was a lie. Jane was going to forego any sort of necktie today. However, Jasprose, for some inexplicable reason, loathed the periwinkle-with-polka-dots bowtie, and Jane took immense pleasure in listening to whatever grand, new, convoluted, and inevitably long insult Jasprose would come up with concerning it.

Also, the bowtie that Jasprose had gifted her had an incredibly tacky cupcake print for one thing, and Jasprose had had it in her mouth before ceremoniously dropping it into Jane’s reluctantly outstretched palm for another. Jane refuses to wear it to work. She does wear it around the house, though.

Unexpectedly, Jasprose had ignored Jane’s comment about her bowtie of choice outright, choosing instead to focus on rummaging through her plastic bag of what Jane knew without looking were knock-off products. “Today I’m making pancakes,” she says, with an air of finality that left no room for questions.

Jane proceeds to question anyway. The whole situation is unprecedented enough that she feels it is justified. “Pancakes,” she says. “You’re standing in the kitchen of the woman who’s CEO of the most prominent baked-goods-centered company, and you’re choosing to make pancakes.”

“You would be correct!” There was an audible cat emoticon in that. Jane never could figure out how exactly Jasprose could convey it; she’s sworn to herself to get to the bottom of it one day. “And you don’t _bake_ pancakes, you cook them, so you should consider brushing up on your basic cooking terminology if you want to keep your cushy little CEO seat. Wouldn’t want me stealing it from under you and getting my gorgeous fur all over it, would you!”

She goes on with her self-appointed task. Jane has never once seen Jasprose successfully cook something, and the fact that she seems determined to go about this with no cookbook in sight is, quite frankly, a bit terrifying. Jane resigns herself to stepping in and ensuring that Jasprose doesn’t set the kitchen aflame.

Just as she attempts to cross the entryway into the kitchen, however, Jasprose stops her. “It’s meant to be a surprise,” she says, waving a large wooden spoon ( _she’d bought a spoon for this? A whole spoon? Instead of just using one of the many I’ve got?_ thought Jane, incredulous), “You ever heard of those? What am I saying of course you have, you have a better streak with pranks and japes and general shenanigans than you do with business and batter. Oh, pardon my French, you have a better _relationship_ with pranks and japes and general shenanigans.”

At this point, Jane has no clue what is going on. She feels a bit wrong-footed. “…Explain.”

“The coffeemaker in this kitchen is literally the only thing that I can smell’s been used, batterbabe _dearest,_ ” says Jasprose, voice taking on a bit of a purr. “Haven’t slept very well or had breakfast, have you? And to think you were looking to be out the door right around now! I have it on good authority—that is, my often correct intuition—that by the time you reached your office you’d be half-asleep.”

Jane flushes. “It’s hardly been the first time,” she reminds Jasprose.

“First time having it be three consecutive times in a row! Are you aiming for death by overwork? For a god of life you’re definitely forgetting to live a little—and you haven’t even got the nine lives I’m not actually equipped with.”

“I’m getting very reminded of my sleep deprived state, right now, as nothing you’ve just said seemed to make any sense whatsoever.”

“You fancied yourself as having detective skills, didn’t you? Try to put them to use. Maybe I made it as inscrutable as possible. Maybe I was aiming to confuse you as much as possible so I could clobber you with a ball of yarn and get you to finally take a catnap while you were distracted trying to make sense of what is in all actuality a very sensible series of sentences.”

Jane does not even think of touching upon the rest of what Jasprose said. “A ball of yarn?”

“Want that as a bedtime story?”

“No, thanks.” A beat. “Maybe some other time,” she concedes. "Though not necessarily as a bedtime story, mind."

Jasprose makes a show of pouting at the rejection, but quickly recovers at Jane’s concession. “They can forgive you getting an extra hour of sleep. What are they going to do, fire their CEO? I don’t believe they have the authority to do that, not when you’re just trying to ensure you are at proper working capacity. Also, like I’d said, you’re kind of one of their fucking gods,” she says. “Get some extra rest, hotcake.”

 _Hotcake,_ honestly. Almost as bad as batterbabe. “Should I be concerned at how insistent you are at getting me to turn away from what is very possibly going to end up being the scene of an arson?”

“I don’t know, should you?” Without breaking eye contact with Jane, Jasprose reaches behind herself and turns a knob on the stove. Nothing happens. “That was a joke!” she says. “I am capable of making jokes.” She sounds delighted at the fact.

Jane sighs. “Of course.”

“Look, you can call in and tell them you’ll be an hour late. Simple. You can’t tell me it isn’t, because if you find that hard to do after clawing your way out of a rigged game along with everyone else, then I am going to make the executive decision to say I believe you’ve fallen from grace a bit.” After a moment of thought, she adds, “I might just make the phone call myself, actually!”

Unstoppable whirlwind. Jane can’t be bothered to put up a decent fight. “Oh, all right. Sure,” she says. The sleep debt was weighing on her, anyway, and the situation as a whole was really inevitable if she thought about it. “I’ll pop back upstairs for a nap, quick as anything, then I’ll be off before the hour’s up.”

Jasprose hums, sways on her heels. “You might want to consider making it after the hour, because it’s going to take me a hot minute to figure out pancakes—but I’m certain I can get it right, it’s bound to be much easier than organizing a battle strategy around multiple locations—and I count that as a very commendable achievement, mind you, I’m really quite pleased with myself for that feat— and then even more than that, seeing as you’re going to be my first taste-tester. The honour!”

“I—“ Jane cuts herself off, sighs, and throws in the towel. It lands somewhere behind her. She’ll pick it back up on her way to her room. “Okay. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

“Sure thing!” A fenestrated window pops into existence next to Jasprose. She falls sideways into it, and Jane watches her with a small smile, already expecting it when an identical window appears next to her and Jasprose falls out of it to press a kiss to her cheek. Jasprose returns to where she was in front of the stove the same way she came. “Don’t wake up earlier than when I come to wake you up.”

“I make no promises.”

“Fair enough!” Jasprose beams and waves at her, then begins to arrange the bowls she’d bought.

Jane watches her for a few seconds before she leaves for her room, gratefulness at Jasprose’s interference slowly settling in. She’ll think of something to do in return once she’s woken up; for now, she wardobifies into sleep clothes as opposed to going through the process of changing manually and settles into her bed, quickly falling asleep.

* * *

The rest of her day goes quite well, after she’s woken up. She’s shaken out of sleep and opens her eyes to an excited Jasprose, egg yolk visible in her hair, but her grin is wide and proud and triumphant. She leads Jane downstairs and talks at length about all the improvisations and discoveries she’d gone through to make an excellent full course breakfast, and she presents the twin plates of scrambled eggs, pancakes, and a tall glass of a banana smoothie to Jane with a flourish.

Jane is suitably surprised. The kitchen isn’t even very messy, though Jasprose had probably had the foresight to clean up before she woke up Jane. “Jasprose,” she says, delighted, “You’ve outdone yourself!”

Jasprose hugs her from behind, resting her head on Jane’s shoulder. Jane’s hands automatically come up to settle on Jasprose’s own. “Oh, don’t I know it,” says Jasprose, though she seems to gain extra satisfaction from hearing how happy Jane is about it. “Come on, let’s have breakfast. Then I’m going to go crash myself.”

“Oh!” How could she have forgotten? She must have really been out of it to forget Jasprose’s own work and sleeping schedule. “Oh, Jasprose, I’m sorry; I should’ve remembered—“

“It’s all right,” says Jasprose, nudging Jane over to the table. “I planned for it and I wanted to do this. Great opportunity to prove my cooking prowess, you know. Now get to eating! I’m hungry myself!”

Jane lets herself be herded onto her chair, and Jasprose sits next to her, taking every opportunity to lean into Jane. They have breakfast and banter about whatever occurs to them, and as she leans over to point out the yolk in Jasprose's hair, Jane privately resolves to make space in her schedule to have more times like this with her. It’s the very least she can do, after all, besides weather through the burnt eggs and the slightly too watery smoothie—she loves it all anyway, though. She wouldn’t trade it for the world. Even if Jasprose proceeds to try licking her hair clean.

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays and an even happier new year! i do hope you enjoyed reading, this was the first time i've written either character in any serious capacity and i'm rather nervous i didn't get it quite right.


End file.
